


Art for Art’s Sake

by sailorkittycat



Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Art, Drawing, F/M, Masturbation, Teaching, teacher
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 21:47:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8684644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailorkittycat/pseuds/sailorkittycat
Summary: Tom has the hots for his art teacher





	

“I can’t do this!” Tom groaned, throwing the pencil down. For the past couple of hours he had been trying to draw and it hadn’t been working out in his favour. The sky had already begun to darken outside and the grey clouds held the promise of evening rain.

“Of course you can do this” Ophelia said gently, she seemed to constantly exude tranquillity even though Tom felt miles away from feeling tranquil and yet he sighed and picked up the pencil again. “Practise makes perfect Tom” Ophelia encouraged and when he looked at her with a forlorn expression she laughed “seriously, you’ve only been practising for a week and I’ve seen some real improvement.”

“Doesn’t feel like it” he mumbled, feeling like the crumpled pieces of paper that he had thrown in the recycling bin throughout the week. Tom was a man of many talents but drawing wasn’t one of them. He had long since accepted that drawing wasn’t his forte and yet when he had read the script for the project he was currently working on he convinced himself that he could learn how to draw. For the sake of research he would drive to The Art Academy in South East London and sit with Ophelia and listen to her calming voice.

“I know” she rests her hand on his shoulder “but each step matters, even if it’s a really small step. One day you’ll look back and realise how far you’ve come, I mean it.” He knows she means it too.

“You’re a saint for putting up with me” he said glumly and she laughed again. The sound was almost musical, it seemed as though she lived and breathed art in all its different forms. Tom knew that he should have felt nothing but pure admiration and respect for his teacher and it wasn’t that he didn’t. Hell, her skill with a pencil was incredible and her passion for the subject was clear as day and there was something undeniably attractive about that. Her warm brown eyes and sweet strawberry scent didn’t help either. It’s just a silly crush he’d tell himself but then she’d lean down and brush her dark hair over her shoulder, the aroma of strawberries would hit him and he couldn’t help but look up at her, admiring the point of her chin and her slender neck and the particular shade of blue against her brown skin. He’d miss out on what she had said which was awful of him and he knew it but God damn it she had him at his wits end and she didn’t even know it.

Tom snapped back to reality when her hand made contact with his. She had her hand over his, adjusting his grip on the pencil.

“Having control in the wrist is important” she said “it allows for short strokes and details.” Oh God, don’t think about it Tom. “Your shoulder” her hand travels up his arm and onto his shoulder, making him gulp “allows for both short and long strokes.” You’re a sick man, Tom Hiddleston. She smiles innocently at him and he feels guilty for thinking such unsavoury thoughts “if you hold the pencil like this” she shifts his hand into a different position “you can get much larger strokes, see?” Tom shifts uncomfortably; you’re a full grown man not a horny teenager with the hots for the art teacher. Control yourself! “Make sure you practise using this technique, okay?”

“Okay” he mourned the loss of the fruity smell when she leaned away from him.

“You’ve been stuck here with me long enough” Ophelia said jokingly “I’ll see you at the same time on Monday.”

“I’ll be here, thank you again for the lesson. It was…” he tried to find an appropriate word “exciting.”

“What a strange word to use” she mused with her head cocked to one side “I’m glad you’re excited, enthusiasm is never a bad thing.” Oh God if only she really knew what I meant. “Tom!” She called and he glanced up to find her gazing back at him holding the pencils he had used throughout the session.

“Yes?”

“Don’t forget to practise.”

“I won’t”

***

It was a relief to walk through the doors of the art studio on Monday. Tom had been particularly anxious to see Ophelia who was wearing a candyfloss pink top which fit snug against her. She seemed pleased to see him too and Tom absentmindedly wondered how she felt about him. Did she feel the energy between them too, or was it all in his head? She offered to sketch alongside him today and they studied the bowl of fruit in front of them together. He had glanced over at her and watched fascinated as she was completely absorbed in her work. She’s gorgeous and talented. What a deadly combination.

“Hey, yours is looking really good” she chirped brightly and Tom felt a faint sense of pride as she praised him. God, I’ve got it bad. Tom didn’t remember the last time he had felt like this. His career had taken off in the last couple of years and he didn’t have as much time for relationships, he had to satisfy his frustration by himself or with the occasional one night stand and that was fine but he was starting to crave that intimacy that came with long term relationships. He pondered over whether Ophelia could comply with this need; certainly she could meet his other needs but was that enough? You don’t even know if she likes you. He was quick to remind himself of the fact that he was thinking too far ahead. Is it love or lust, Hiddleston?

“You’ve really got those strokes down, I can really see them coming into play over here” she said pointing out a piece of his work. She had been so informative about which way to hold his pencil and how to move his hand, albeit he had practised them in a rather unorthodox manner. When he had gotten home on Friday night he had tried to distract himself with a (cold) shower and some dinner and TV but it had been pretty futile. He gave in. Much of his weekend was spent with his hand in the ‘overhand grip’ imagining it was her delicate hand instead of his. If he pushed himself hard enough he could almost feel her long, artist’s fingers stroking him up and down his hardening length instead of his own. It didn’t matter if he came, it didn’t bestow him with the kind of relief he wanted. He needed something more. He needed her. Thus he had decided that cometh Monday he would do something or say something, he was more than capable of seduction, he’d done it before and he could do it again. So why was he so nervous? 

He decided to put if off until the end of the lesson, after all he couldn’t interrupt her mid lecture could he? She was giving a very passionate talk about the different kinds of pressure one could apply when shading. There was something beautiful about the way a person spoke about their passion, the bright eyes and hand gestures and fast paced talk. Tom realised that the worst part about his lust for Ophelia was that she was so unaware of the frustration she caused him. She was so pure and sweet and in spite of that fact, he yearned for her like some sort of pervert. You are a pervert he corrected himself and your mother would be disappointed in you. It was at that exact moment that she was walking towards him and he struggled to tame his expression into a more serious one.

“I brought you some new 2B pencils” she said and she promptly dropped them on the floor “I’m so clumsy” she murmured to herself as she dropped to her knees to pick up the pencils. Tom pushed himself to get up otherwise he’d have gotten hard from just staring at her unintentionally suggestive position.

“Have you gotten them all?” He asked, handing her one of the pencils.

“There’s one just there” she reaches over closer to him and he suddenly realised the extent of his creepiness when he admires a close up of her cleavage. You’re disgusting. Tom, look away. He gets up and clears his throat.

“Sorry about that” she apologises, getting up.

“Perfectly fine” his voice sounds strained, even to his own ears.

“Are you okay, Tom?” She needs to stop saying my name like that.

“Yes, sorry, I just, um” he was stumbling over his words and he knew it. His tongue quickly darts out to wet his dry lips as he tries to search for the right words. He could have leaned down and kissed her right then and there, they were so close to each other and her lips did look awfully tempting.

“Cat got your tongue?” She asked, looking a little amused. You are the cat. If Tom didn’t know any better he would think she was flirting with him but his brain was clouded with some sort of strawberry fog. He couldn’t think straight.

“Y-yeah…” He agreed, attempting to swallow the lump in his throat. She looked genuinely confused for a second but then she swept past him to go put the pencils on the table. Tom was dying on the inside at that point real smooth, Tom. Aren’t you a sex symbol? Weren’t you voted one of the sexiest men in the world? Did they mix you up with someone else? His plan had essentially failed and now instead of being seductive he was pathetic.

***

He had put off asking her out for days in fact it was coming up to weeks now and he still hadn’t uttered a word concerning dinner or more. It was a genuine struggle to stay still during class time and he was starting to lose control. It had gotten so bad that he sat in his car for long periods of time just thinking about how the day could have been different if only he had said something.

Usually Ophelia left the studio ten minutes after Tom and he would see her carrying a bag full of art supplies to her car. He’d admire her walk and memorise what she was wearing to aid for later activities. She’d drive off as per normal but this time Tom noticed that she didn’t. She sat in her car for a minute or two and then got out and opened the hood of her car, peering down into it. Raindrops obscured Tom’s view of her and he had to turn on his windshield wipers in order to maintain a clear visual. He watched her pull out her phone and it suddenly hit him, her car had broken down.

He turned up the hood of his hoodie and approached her “is everything alright?”

She looked surprised to see him, the rain had started to really come down and Tom wished he had brought his umbrella to keep her from getting wet.

“My car is being a menace” she said “and my phone isn’t working.” She wrapped her arms around herself as she tried to suppress a shiver.

“I can drop you home” he said the words before he had even thought about them. He would have regretted it but she perked up immediately.

“Really? I don’t want to inconvenience you in any way” she said hurriedly but Tom shook his head.

“It would be my pleasure.” It earned him a smile which could fuel a thousand dreams.

You’re just driving her home, it’s no big deal. It’s the polite thing to do. He watched out the corner of his eye as she rubbed at her damp arms and tried to comb her wet hair with her fingers. He turned up the heat, not wanting her to freeze and then switched on the radio just out of habit. The news came on and filled the quiet until Ophelia spoke.

“Thank you for driving me home” she said “it’s awfully nice of you.”

“It’s no problem” Tom said “It’s terrible for your car to break down, especially on a night like this.” The rain was relentless now, beating down on the glass so heavily that it could have been mistaken for hail.

“Traffic looks pretty heavy” she noted, nodding towards the queue of cars ahead of them.

Tom sighed “Christ, you’re right.” The line was moving sluggishly at best and Tom calculated that it would be a couple of hours until they reached Ophelia’s apartment and more hours still until he’d be back home. They filled the time with chatter and Tom learned that Ophelia’s favourite colour was red and that she had a cat called Higgins and no boyfriend (a silent celebration occurred within Tom at this point.) When they approached a left turn Tom would usually take to get home, he switched on his indicator.

“Would it bold of me to ask if you’d rather spend the night at mine?” He asked, looking at her “it’s just that traffic is terrible and I’m sure you’re tired an-“

“Sure”

“and I- wait, what did you just say?”

“I said yes” she giggled at his blank expression “it only makes sense, doesn’t it?”

“Right” he agreed “it’s the logical thing to do.”

“I don’t know how long I can stay in these wet clothes anyway” she added, wiggling around. Tom observed the way the wet material clung to her like a second skin. Her dark skin was nearly visible through the thin, pale shirt and Tom had to remind himself to keep his eyes on the road. Dear God what have I done, I won’t last.

***

When they arrived back at Tom’s apartment, he offered her a towel and she followed him into his bedroom as he sifted through his closet for something appropriate for her to wear.

“Wet jeans are no good to stay in” he said “but I don’t know if I have anything that’ll fit you…” She moved to stand next to him instead of behind him.

“What about this?” she pointed to a jumper of his that was reserved for the harshest of winter days. It was dark in colour and pretty big.

“Perfect” he said, handing it to her “um, the shower is through here” he said, pointing it out to her. She smiled and thanked him, padding into the bathroom and shutting the door. To fill the time Tom went into the kitchen and filled the kettle and flicked the switch on. He distracted himself by making two cups of tea and emptying the dishwasher but he kept thinking about Ophelia. In his shower. Right now. Warm water cascading down her. She would probably use his soap. He had to grip the edge of the kitchen counter as he imagined her lathering the soap up her hands before slathering it on her body. What I would give to be a drop of Dove…

“Tom?” He heard her voice call out for him.

“In here!” He called out and she followed his voice into the small kitchen space.

“Thanks again” she said “I hope you don’t mind but I used your soap.” Don’t think about it!

“It’s fine” he managed to get out. Not only did he have to battle against the thought of her in the shower, he had to face her wearing his jumper. “Put your wet clothes in here” he bent down to open the dryer and she tossed her clothes in. She too had to bend down ever so slightly, causing the jumper to ride up a little. It had sat comfortably at mid thigh but now he could see the pink lace of her underwear which wasn’t helping one bit.

“Um, would you like some tea?” He asked, knowing that he’d have to take an extra long shower tonight. He turned away from her and tried to focus on adding milk to the tea.

“Yes, please” she moved to stand closer to him. He could feel her presence close by and he added a splash too much of milk to her tea but she didn’t seem to mind “do you have any sugar?” She asked. He let her help herself to the sugar cubes; she plopped in three of them before stirring the tea and taking a sip.

“Hot” she commented, putting the mug down. It probably wasn’t a good time for Tom to be fantasising.

This became embarrassingly apparent when Tom replied by saying “yes you are.”

Silence.

Then just as Tom thought that he had ruined everything and that he would never live this down, she laughed. It wasn’t uncomfortable laughter it was genuine laughter. She looked up at him through her eyelashes “really?”

“I’ve always thought so.”

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“I didn’t know if you felt the same way” She didn’t seem pleased with the answer and sighed.

“I dropped so many hints” she contemplated “I don’t think I’ve used the word ‘strokes’ so many times in such a short span of time.” So she did know what she was doing.

“You were doing that on purpose?!” She moved closer to him and placed her hands on his shoulders, taking time to feel the muscles of his back before linking her fingers behind his neck. Her barely there touches encouraged him to place his hands on her waist, feeling how small she was compared to his jumper. She stood on the tips of her toes and grazed her lips across his. What a tease.

“You smell like strawberries” he said, savouring the sweet scent.

“Want to find out if I taste like them too?”

He did and so he did.


End file.
